


Family Buisness

by sigiseraphina



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2016, Bunker, F/M, Grounding, Hunting, M/M, Monsters, Non-Consensual Spanking, Parental Discipline, Spanking, mouth soaping, parent!Dean, parent!sam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 02:19:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1965222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sigiseraphina/pseuds/sigiseraphina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On November 28th, 2016, Sam and Dean get a call from Garth to check on a boy in Chicago. The case leads to the boys discovering Sam's a daddy and so is Dean. Should their boys stay with them? Should their boys stay out of the life? And is it too late to keep them out of it?<br/>(not as lame as it sounds)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Oswald

\--------------------------November 28, 2016--------------------------

 

\--------------------------Chapter 1: Part 1--------------------------

 

The echoes reverberated against the bunker's walls. It was almost seven AM, an annoying time in general for most, but for the Winchesters it was already mid-morning. Both were awake and clothed by six on an average day. Although Dean had been demon free for over a year, the brothers were still struggling to unite back into their familiar roles.

Dean running off with Crowley for a year had damaged their relationship almost passed repair. Sam searched everywhere twice for his brother and found an unrepentant demon. Had it not been for a divine miracle, Dean would have stayed a demon forever and left Sam to travel alone. Sam naively expected that Dean would regret leaving him behind, but Dean stood by his decision. This attitude added a rift between the two even after Dean agreed to return to the bunker.

It was only recently, that they had begun returning to their old routine of early mornings and perpetual hunting. Sam was considering taking on a possible Wendigo case in Michigan, when Dean's other _other_ cellphone rang.

“This is Dean... Uh-huh... East 84th? 211? Yep, got it... We'll check it out...” Dean stood up and started shuffling to check for his car keys, “Yeah, we should be there by seven... Watch out for yourself, Garth.”

 Dean closed his phone and nodded towards Sammy, “Saddle up, Sammy, we've got a case.”

 “Where at?” Sam asked, as he shoved his laptop into it's case.

 Dean grabbed his pre-packed duffel and dug in his leather jacket for Baby's keys. “Chicago, few people've gone missing.”

“You sure this is our kind of thing?”

“Garth's not sure. There's a group from Florida heading there, but he wants us to take a look first.”

“Why's he want us there, if people are already on it?”

Dean shrugged as he opened the bunker's door. “Don't know, but Garth sounded adamant and we owe him one for helping us on that case last month. Besides it'll be good for Baby to get some mileage on her. The cases have been pretty local lately.”

Sam nodded, accepting the answer and followed Dean out the door, before sliding into the old Impala. “Garth say where we should start there?”

“An apartment complex on East 84th Street. A kid's mom went missing a week ago. Garth said the kid's a friend of a friend.”

“Think he saw anything?”

“Only one way to find out.” And with a turn of his wrist, the Impala's engine gave out a hearty growl and sparked to life. Mindlessly, Dean reached down and popped in a mixed tape. Lisa gave him the tape for his 31st birthday. Both listened in silence as the music played, as the Chevy pulled away from the bunker.

And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon  
Little boy blue and the man on the moon  
When you comin' home, Dad  
I don't know when, but we'll get together then...

 

\--------------------------Chapter 1: part 2--------------------------

 

It was almost six and the Sun had already set, by the time Dean pulled Baby onto the curb adjacent to the old apartment complex. Traffic had been moderate, so they had made decent time, stopping only twice for food and gas.

The street howled as a gust drove through the various houses and complexes and spread a light dusting of ice and snow along the ground. Sam clutched his jacket and gave a slight shiver, as he retreated from the temperate vehicle. He glanced at the building, before joining Dean inside. It was small for a three-story apartment complex and the years had worn the bricks. The overgrown bushes blocked the first story's windows and almost brushed the second's. Judging by the lack of noise and the various rent signs, it was assumable that the complex was not home to many people. The steps were old and creaked as the pair trekked the second floor.

Half of the rentals either had their numbers lost or had their doors ajar. Dean ran back the address in his head and gave a hearty knock to room 211. There was an audible eep that came from the apartment, followed by a small crash and the hurried shuffling of feet.

Dean started to reach for his pocket, ready to go in guns blazing, when a little voice called out, “Wh-Who's dere?”

Dean lowered his guard by a smidgin, and gave a quick reply, “We're Garth's pals, Sam and Dean Winchester. Garth said you might need some help. Think you could open the door for us?”

“Um, yeah I can, but, um... You're nodda mons'der righ?”

“Nope, we just fight'em. We can help if you let us in. 

“Promise you're nodda mons'der?”

“Cross my heart, and hope to die.” 

“...Kay.” The sounds of locks and chains echoed through the hall, before the door flew open and the brothers were face to face with a little boy. He stood atop a step-ladder, armed with a spray bottle and a dull butter knife. Spotting their faces, he sprayed both of their faces and took shelter beneath the ladder to examined them.

“Jesus kid!” Sam shouted as he rubbed the cold substance out of his eyes and looked at his hands, “What is this? Is that glitter?”

“Is mons'der spray wif holy wa'der! Ben maded id for me!” The little one announced, tightening his grip on the dull blade and glaring at Sammy. 

Dean held up his hands, glanced down, and stepped down into the apartment, careful not to touch to the crude salt line. “Well nothings burning, so I guess we aren't monsters.” Dean crouched down in front of the step-ladder, “Why don't you come out from under there, so we can talk?” 

The boy shook his head. Now insides, Dean had a better view of the child. His eyes were swollen, his lip was quivering, his shoulders were shaking, and his hand glowed red from gripping the knife. He was miserable and petrified. And as Sam's boot tromped next to the ladder, the skittish boy lunged towards the edge of the ladder trying to cut Sam's ankle. 

Dean caught the boy's wrist and removed the blade from his hand, “Woah! Don't get trigger happy on us kiddo, we're not the bad guys.”

Once Dean had the boy disarmed, Sam closed the door and joined Dean in his crouched position, “What's your name, lil' guy?”

The boy drew his knees into his chest and sniffled with tears threatening to fall, “O-Oswald Jen-Jennings.”

“Oswald? Well my name is Sam, and this is my brother Dean. We're hunters, we hunt monsters, and we just want to help.” Oswald only nodded in response and kept his body contorted.

“You had your guns blazing a second ago little man, why don't you come out and talk with us?” Dean prompted.

Oswald shook his head and tried to push himself further back, “Don' wanna.”

Dean leaned back to sit, “Why not?”

“Sca'ded.”

“Why's that?”

Tears started flowing and Oswald let out a sharp whine, “I wan' my mooooomma! She didn' come back and she always does! An, an, she always calls, but she didn! An mons'ders prob'ly godded her! An, I'm 'lone an I can'd walk cross da road alone, so I'm gonna run out of food, an, an, I'm gonna die, an mons'ders are gonna eat me!” Oswald lapsed into bawling and started rubbing at his face.

“Shh, shh, shh, calm down, buddy, we'll find your mom,” Sam coaxed, as Dean lifted the step-ladder off the boy.

Sam reached out to stoke the hair out of his face, but inconsolable Oswald pushed the hand away. “Is been a week dough! An, an Ben says if is more than two days, dey prob'ly dead!” Oswald bawled and rolled onto the floor.

“Yep, she might be-”

“Dean!”

“Can it Sammy,” Dean snapped, before placing a comforting hand on the child's back. “Listen kid, I can't promise your mom's alive, but I can promise I'll find out where she's been and if she's alive, I'll bring her back to you. And if she is dead, I'll gank the son of a bitch, who killed her. But I'm gonna need some help here. You gotta tell me everything you know, so I can find her. Crying ain't gonna bring your mom back.”

 

\--------------------------Chapter 1: part 3--------------------------

 

It took a few minutes, but finally, Oswald was able to calm himself enough to speak coherently. He pushed himself upright and looked up at two. “Whad, ya needa know?”

“What's your mom's name and where does she work?” Dean asked.

Oswald sniffled and rubbed at his eyes, before replying, “Momma's name is Sparrow, like da' birdie... An she workes ad Leona's.”

“Did she have any enemies?”

“No... Momma is nice to ev'body.”

“Did she mention anyone acting strange? Did she act strange before she left?” Sam interjected.

“No, she said she'd be home ad five... An she'd wa'ch Ponyo wif me. An, an Momma always calls ev'y couple hours an afore she leaves work! An she calleded a' four last Sunday an said she migh' be a liddle lade a'cause Judy was lade, bu she didn' come home...” Oswald sniffled again and squeezed his legs against his chest. He silently wished that he had thought to grab his stuffed monster Diniel, before letting these strangers in. 

Noticing the shift of emotion from Oswald, Sam backed off from questioning. Sam had spent very little time around children. He always saw them as strange, frail little things. They were small humans and Sam thought that if he said one wrong thing, it would mess them up forever. Dean had helped raise Sam and had a year of being a father. And after seeing Oswald's sad tiny face, Sam was more than willing to take the backseat with questioning.

After taking a few mental notes, Dean gently asked, “Do you remember seeing or hearing anything odd since your mom went missing?”

Oswald gave a sullen nod and held up two fingers, “Dis many nighs ago...I heard Mr. Hank shoudin ou'side... An so I looked odda window an he was gone.”

“Who's Mr. Hank?”

“He lives ad da end of da hall. He use ta be married to Mrs. Cassidy, but a shif'er godded her,” he replied, nibbling on his lip to calm himself.

“A shifter, huh? Those can be pretty scary. Do you know how long ago it got Mrs. Cassidy, lil dude?”

“Uhhh, I dunno, id was long dime ago.” Oswald shrugged and rested his chin between his knees. “Mrs. Cassidy ussa wa'ch me, while Momma was ad work... An den, one day she was jus, jus being weird an I sawed her eyes through Momma's web cam. An Ben came in an saved me.”

“Thanks little man, you did a real good job telling me what was up. You don't have to worry anymore, okay? Me and my brother are gonna take care of whatever is happening around here.”

“Kay...” he softly replied.

Dean nodded and stood up, placing his hand in his pockets and trying to conjure up a few theories. His mind first went to shifters. They had a history at this apartment complex. Hell there was an entire family of them in the city. But disappearing people wasn't typical shifter behavior. One or two maybe, but a quick internet search on the way up suggested that at least five people on 84th street had gone missing in the last month. Sighing, he took a seat on the worn couch across the room.

While Dean focused on theories, Sam turned his attention to Oswald. The boy was scrawny with a tall thin frame and a rounded face. Sam took note that the boy's brown hair was quite greasy and messy. His clothes also didn't seem to fit quite right and his skin was pale. Something about this boy didn't feel right. Taking a tiny step closer to the boy, Sam asked, “Who's been looking out for you the past week?”

“No one, is jus been me,” Oswald replied as he fiddled with his hands and avoided eye contact.

Struggling to place an age with the boy, he asked, “How old are you?”

“Five an a half.”

“You're five and you've been home alone for a week? Hasn't anyone noticed? Didn't your school call.”

“No, acause I'm nodda loudda leave da 'parmen wiff'ou' Momma. An school didn' call, acause we're on break 'til Wensday.”

Flabbergasted, Sam pushed his hair back and huffed. Looking at Oswald again, he wasn't so bad-looking for a child that had been alone for a week. No obvious cuts or bruises, not too many food stains on his clothes, overall this kid had done well to keep himself alive. Glancing at the studio apartment, Sam noted that it wasn't in too bad of shape either. There were a few VHS tapes laying out and a couple of stains on the couch, but only books cluttered the floor and counters.

Noticing Sam's surveying and happy to have attention away from him, Oswald scurried across the room. All he wanted was for his mother to come home and cuddle. Diniel, would have to be enough for now though. Oswald climbed onto the queen bed and snuggled Diniel against his chest, wishing he could wake up from this nightmare.

His moment of peaceful solitude was short lived as Dean addressed him, “Hey, kid, did your mom leave you any emergency numbers? Maybe we could call your dad or a family friend or a nearby distant relative?”

Oswald shook his head, “No, Momma doesn' have a family anymore an she doesn' know where my poppa is. Momma says he was a FBI guy with an angry brudder who godded ab-duck-ded by aliens.”

A few wheels started turning in Sammy's head, as pieces fell together and his reality came crashing down. Feeling anxious, he rubbed at his temple praying to any god that would listen that he was wrong.

“Shit,” Dean cursed, interrupting Sam's thought process, “Sammy, you watch the kid, I'm gonna go check out Leona's.”

“What? Dean you're not going alone.”

“Uh, yeah, I am. Look, if anything goes wrong, or if I spot anything, I'll call you, alright?”

“Dean, we don't even know what this thing is-”

“That's why I'm going to look into it.”

“Dean,” Sammy gave a quick glance towards Oswald, “Can we, can we talk outside for a minute?”

“Fine,” Dean cast a look at Oswald, “Sammy'll be back in a minute lil' dude.” Oswald nodded and held his monster tight.

Dean motioned to Sam and both walked out. “Okay, so what didn't you wanna say in front of the kid?”

“Dean, I just, uh,” Sam dug his hand in his pockets, “Dean, I think that kid might be mine.”

“Are you serious? You, a dad? Sam you practically gave me a save sex talk when you were sixteen.”

“Dean, I'm being serious! Remember that fairy case in Elwood six years back?”

“When you were robosam? Yeah, I remember it, thanks again for looking so hard for me.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “I said I was sorry about that, but the woman I slept with was Sparrow Jennings. I don't know about you, but I don't think there are too many Sparrow Jen-”

“Okay, just hold it... You're being serious? You really think you have some long lost kid?”

“I mean, the last name, the time line, and that little story about the uncle being abducted. All of that points to me.”

“...Well I'd be lying if seeing that kid didn't take me back. He looks like you did as a kid Sammy, a lot,” Dean opened the passenger door of the Impala and handed Sam his laptop. “We can worry about this later though, right now you need to keep your head in the game and do some of your brainiac research stuff on the web.”

“Dean-!” Sam called as Dean climbed into the driver's seat.

“Later Sammy!”

“Damn it!” Sam shouted as he kicked a rock into the street. He looked up at the building and saw Oswald looking down at him with familiar green eyes.

 


	2. Ben

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, college has been an adjustment. I hope you like this chapter, it ended up being more emotionally charged than I had anticipated. It might be a while before I post chapter 3, but once I get to chapter 4, hopefully, my updates will be more regular.

-Chapter 2: part 1-

The staircase became a mountain, as Sam inched his way back. Seeing Oswald's green eyes had eradicated almost all hope for Sam. Green eyes aren't common in general, but these green eyes were special. Sam recognized these eyes, they were Dean's eyes, it was an exact, unmistakable, perfect shade of green. He had looked up to them his entire life.

Sparrow probably died a few days ago. What the hell was he going to do with a kid? He could barely talk to the kid before stepping back and passing him on to Dean. Dean had played Dad for a year and Sam just didn't think he had the stomach for it. Being a loved one of the Winchesters also didn't have a good track record. The smart thing to do would be passing Oswald off to a family. Hell, he was a cute kid, he'd stand a good chance of getting adopted out of a foster home. But Sam knew at his core that he couldn't do that. You don't abandon flesh and blood.

Sam honed in on the word blood. There was no blood proof that Oswald was his. Coincidences happen and Sam prayed this was one. Taking Dean's advice, he shoved down his thoughts, fears, and doubts as deep as they would go.

Reaching 211, Sam sighed in annoyance, finding the room already relocked. Knocking Sam called for Oswald, “Hey, it's just me, Sam. Can you open the door, please? Without a knife this time.”

Opening the door, Oswald grumped, “Id was jus' a budder knife... Ben says I have to wai' before I can use a real one.”

“A butter knife is a real knife, just not too practical.” Oswald only whined in response and squeezed Diniel to his face. “Uh... Right... Well, I'm going to get to work, so, um, tell me if you, uh, need anything.”

Sam avoided eye contact and set up his laptop on a table shoved against the left wall. He updated the case file to include Oswald's testimony and scanned the entire document thrice. When researching, Sam liked to condense the most important facts into a single document and memorize the information. This left him with a titanium foundation, before creating any theories.

So far, Oswald had been most helpful in information gathered. Outside of his testimony, all Sam had gathered was that five people on 84th street had gone missing in the last month. None of the people seemed to be otherwise connected and none were from the same building. The only map pattern, Sam could see was that each hit happened on the opposite side of the street and moved east. Now that it had hit at this complex, Sam wasn't sure where its next strike would be. The apartment marked the end of East 84th Street and was next to several train tracks. It'd have to cut through the tracks and a huge park to continue on East 84th Street.

Bewildered, Sam began to search for buildings, parks, and cemeteries near the first attack. Too invested in research, Sam didn't notice Oswald's close presence until he touched the computer screen. “I go dere!” Owald chirped, pointing to an elementary school on 83rd Street.

Sam jumped in surprise, before removing the tiny finger from his screen. “Thanks for the update, kid, but don't touch my screen. I don't want it to get dirty.”

“Sorry...” He sulked. Oswald hid his chin in Diniel, but kept his eyes locked on the screen and stood unnecessarily close to Sam's leg.

“Uh, kid, you're kinda invading my personal bubble.”

Taking a half step back, he asked, “Nod in your bubble anymore?”

Sighing, Sam tried to ignore him for a few minutes, but struggled to keep focused, especially when Oswald stepped forward again. “Why don't you go color a picture or, um, watch a movie or... something?”

“Don' wanna.”

“I really need some space so I can focus on research-”

“Bu' I'm nod puddin my fingers on da screen an' I'm being very nod noisy too!”

“I didn't say you were, it's just hard to focus with you standing right beside me,” Sam explained. “So could you please do something to occupy yourself?”

Oswald let out a loud extended whine. “Nooooooo, I wanna see wha' you're doiiiiiiing.”

“Oswald, listen-”

“Ozzie! I like bein' called Ozzie.”

Sam inwardly sighed, before continuing, still avoiding eye contact, “Ozzie, please go entertain yourself. I can't find your mom with you breathing down my neck.”

Offended, Oswald crawled onto the couch and cuddled Diniel as he glared at Sam from afar. “Thank you,” Sam remarked turning his attention back to the computer.

Realizing Sam didn't care about his glaring, Oswald resigned to watch a movie, casting the occasional stare at Sam. Now that there was distance between the two, Sam didn't pay any mind the glances and was able to refocus himself. Although, it didn't last long, before Sam's cell started ringing.

Sam answered immediately, “Dean-... Yeah, of coarse I'm still here... Did you catch it's eyes?... Okay, so maybe a crocotta-... Dean don't leave Leona's, I saw it on the map, I can be there in-... No, Dean... Yeah, I'm still working on it... ... Just give me some time and I'll- Dean?” Sam glanced at his phone and cursed, “Dammit, Dean.”

He slammed his phone on the table and ran his fingers through his hair, debating whether to stay or to go after Dean. Ozzie had survived this long by himself, he'd be fine for a couple of hours. Sam turned towards the couch to judge the child's state, before jumping up and surveying the entire room. Ozzie was nowhere in sight.

As Sam ducked to check underneath the bed, he heard a loud, sharp, panicked scream from the bathroom. In one move, Sam was on his feet and running for the door, not even bothering to arm himself. His heart imploded, as he opened the door and saw an empty room. He was about to exit the room and begin searching outside, when he heard a strained voice call, “Sam!”

Sam whipped his head to the right and spotted the ajar window with a tiny leg hanging out of it. “Ozzie!” He shouted, before gripping the boy's ankle, fully opening the window, and pulling the little one inside. After a quick, but detailed observation of the yard and window, Sam realized nothing had pulled Ozzie out, but rather the boy had been trying to climb out of the window.

Glaring at the shaken little one in front of him, Sam struggled to formulate a proper response, “What...? What the hell were you trying to do?!”

Ozzie covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut with Diniel tucked into his heavy coat. “Don' yell, ” he whimpered. When Sam didn't respond, Ozzie started shaking and crying, keeping his hands firmly over his ears, fearing more shouting.

Sam's phone conversation had been loud, but hearing Leona's was enough for Ozzie. He had been patient long enough and he wanted his mother; so he had gathered up his winter clothes from below the sink used for seasonal storage, stuffed Diniel in his coat, and tried to climb out the window, planning to be with his mother, before Sam even noticed his absence. However, once he was on the sill, he realized how very far the ground seemed to be from him. He'd tried to swing his leg back inside, when the old window fell onto his calf. The sudden movement, startled him into an uncomfortable position and triggered the loud scream that had alerted Sam.

Seeing Ozzie's pathetic state, Sam closed his eyes and took two deep breathes. He was still furious and confused, but he didn't want to scare Ozzie anymore than he already was. After a moment of listening to Ozzie trying to stop his sobbing, Sam got on his knees and gently spoke at a slow pace, “Hey, calm down... It's alright, I'm not yelling anymore, okay? You're fine.”

Barely able to hear, Ozzie hesitatingly lowered his hands as the giant man spoke. He opened his eyes and shook his head, “ 'm nod fine. I wan' my Momma... I need her... 'm nod fine.” Reaching into his coat, Ozzie pulled out Diniel and held him to his chest with all his might.

Sam watched as Ozzie tried to sooth himself by tightening his muscles and squeezing the stuffed monster to his chest. Sam wasn't sure exactly what to do, but his body seemed to move on its own and wrap a hesitate arm around the small body. When the boy froze, Sam feared he'd made the wrong choice, but his fears were quickly alleviated. Ozzie released one arm from Diniel and gripped onto Sam's shirt and burrowed his head into Sam's chest.

“ 'm sorry,” he sniffled.

“... Uh, it's okay,” Sam awkwardly responded, patting Ozzie's back, before looking down at the little one in his arm and asked, “Wanna tell me, why inspired your window jump?” Blushing, Ozzie mumbled into Sam's chest. “My ears aren't in my shirt,” Sam stated as he pulled back and looked at Ozzie's eyes.

“I misjudged da dis'ence from here do da ground...” he moped.

“Well, we aren't too high up,” scoffed Sam, before correcting himself, “But, you still could have gotten hurt. You could have cracked your skull open.”

“I know, 'm nod dumb,” Ozzie pouted, glaring at the floor.

“Yeah, jumping out a window is a real smart thing to do.”

With a glare, Ozzie retorted, “I didn' e'speck da window fallin on me. I hadded my coad, my boo's,” the boy unzipped his coat and gestured to several internal pockets, “An' mons'er spray, an' a budder knife, an'... an' a compass, AN'! I had Diniel! I was pa'peared,” he finished with a huff.

“Okay, kid, first of all,” Sam grabbed the knife and monster spray from the coat, “You need to stop with the solider routine, alright? You're a kid, you don't need weapons. My brother's going to find your mom, and I'm going stay right here with you, alright? Everything's fine.”

“I's nod fine, dop saying i's fine! I's nod fine! I's nod...” Ozzie snapped, stamping his foot and rubbing at his eyes.

“Okay, it's not fine, are you happy now? Does that make you feel better?” Sam grouched.

“NoooOooOOoooOOO!” He whined, throwing his head back and squeezing Diniel. “Yoooou are sooooOOooo meeeaAaaAAAAN!”

“You're not being very charming either shortie.”

Ozzie gasped in offense, “I i's nod shore! You are jus' a big weed!” Satisfied with his counter-insult, Ozzie left in a proud huff and took refuge underneath the bed comforter.

Sam only rolled his eyes in response. He was not getting into a fight with a five year old. Determined to keep a better eye on him this time, Sam moved his laptop to the kitchen, so the boy would remain in his peripheral vision. With one last look at the wriggling mass underneath the comforter, Sam returned to work with a small smile.

 

-Chapter 2 part 2-

 

In under two hours, Dean returned in a disheveled state carrying a small plastic bag. His clothes had several large tears and a few blood and sweat stains. And although, both him and Sam had been in far worse states before, Sam was grateful that Oswald had already fallen asleep. Dean sat across from Sam and pulled out a beer from his bag.

“Where's the kid?”

“Sleeping pretty deep, over there,” Sam gestured to the bed, before asking, “...So, Sparrow?”

“Been dead for almost a week,” Dean took a large swig of beer, “Body was gross and the thing was a son of a bitch to kill.”

“What are we gonna do about Ozzie?”

“Ozzie now huh...? Figure we'd drop him off with someone for a few days,” After another swig, Dean presented a small white box to Sam, “And find out what this puppy says. 

Glancing at the cheek swab kit in front of him, Sam took a deep breath in. “And then what Dean?”

He shrugged in response, “Figure if he's not yours, we drop him off at a police station, let them deal with him... If he's yours, well, that's your business.”

“Dean... if he's really mine, I don't know what I'm gonna do.”

“Well,” Dean gestured to some writing on the white box, “You've got 3-4 business days to think on it.”

Sam grunted. “Like that's en-” Sam paused hearing the jingling of keys in the door. Sharing a look, both brothers reached for their hips and crept towards the door. The key jingler, realizing the door was already unlocked, withdrew his hand and cautiously opened the door an inch. “Oz, you in here?” a young man's voice asked, before slowly creaking the door open further. Seeing Sam's shadow, he jumped into the room, gun drawn and aimed at Sam.

“Who the hell are you?” the young man asked. He stood clad in an worn leather jacket and scoffed up jeans, held up by a belt with a hostler. The youth was an inch shy of Dean's height, minus his spiked brown hair. A chunky female, quickly joined him, and held a knife threateningly at Dean. A third individual stayed, in the shadow of the door, watching the scene unfold.

Cocking his gun, Sam kept his barrel aimed at the male youth, and took a small side step, “Who are you?”

“I've got the keys, I ask the questions.” He cast a momentary glance towards the corner of the room, where Oswald slept in plain site. Seeing the boy's chest rise and fall, he relaxed by a half degree and scanned Sam's body. “Did Garth send you?”

Not relaxing for a moment, Sam countered, “How do you know Garth?”

“Good friend, gives us a place place to stay sometimes. Now answer my question.”

“Yeah, said a kid was out here alone.”

Accepting that response, the youth locked eyes with Sam and slowly lowered his gun and dropped it on the ground. In good faith, Sam lowered his weapon, but held onto it. Nodding, but keeping his eyes on Sam, he called. “Maeve, stop dancing with the other one. Ozzie's safe.”

“I'll lower mine, when he lowers his.”

“No way in hell am I lowering my weapon. Especially with your buddy in the shadows over there.”

The red head only snorted in response as she glared at Dean. Trying to diffuse the situation, The original aggressor held up his hands and glanced at the door, “Come out Collin and show you're unarmed.” Slowly, a lanky teen slipped in from the door way, mimicking the young adult's stance of hands up.

After glancing at the teen, Sam looked to Dean still gridlocked with Maeve, “Dean, stop... Dean! You've got a gun-.”

“And she's got a knife.”

Trusting the giant man in front of him, the young adult turned his back on Sam to face Dean and Maeve. After zeroing in on Dean's face, Ben's voice dropped, “Maeve. Drop the knife.”

“Ben-.”

“Drop the damn knife.”

After casting a quick glance at him and catching the dark glint in his eyes, she returned her knife to between her belt and flouncy shirt. “Fine.” She held up her hands in resignation.

“Dean,” Sam cautioned. Huffing, Dean retracted his gun.

Several moments of silence and observation passed before Dean spoke, directing his attention to Ben, “Who are you?”

Ben's brows twitched, before replying, “I'm Ben and these are my friends: Maeve and Collin. You're Dean Winchester, so I assume the tall guy behind me is Sam.

Scanning the youth in slight puzzlement, Dean asked, “We met?”

“A long time ago,” with a final odd look, Ben turned his attention back to Sam, “What got Sparrow?”

Dean answered from behind, “Don't know, but silver took care of it. Some breed of a shape-shifter.”

Ben paid no mind to Dean and crossed his arms in thought for a moment. Refusing to face Dean, Ben spoke to Sam, “Thanks for taking care of Oz. We can handle the fallout from here.”

“Yeah, well that doesn't really work for us,” Dean curtly replied, crossing in front of Ben and surveying the rest of the group.

Ben whipped his head to Dean, “Why not? He's none of your business.”

“He's our business for the next few days,” Dean slyly replied before gesturing to the group of young adults, “And I'm not leaving a kid with more kids.”

Ben snorted in response, “Mae and I are full fledged and legal.” Ben clicked his tongue at Dean, “And frankly given the Winchesters track record, Ozzie would be safer with literally anyone else. I told Garth to send the nearest hunters, but you two walking death sentences.”

“Ben,” Maeve warned.

Dean was about to retort, but Sam cut the space between the two and addressed Ben, “Listen, we don't want any trouble. Just give us a couple days with him and then he's all yours.”

“Why do you want him at all?”

“I met his mom a few years back, while my brother was missing and-”

Ben moved past Sam towards Dean and gave him an exasperated look, “Please for the love of God tell me, you aren't the angry midget who got the anal probe.”

“The one and only.”

Ben flung around, chewing his lip and feeling pale. “Walk away and don't look back. He's a good- no, he's a great kid and he can't be in the line of fire. I'm begging you to leave him.”

“I've got a swab test and if he's mine, I'm not sure what I'll do.”

Ben looked away from Sam and paced the room, furiously stroking his head back, “You can't take him.”

“Ben,” Maeve gripped Ben's shoulders from behind and spoke softly, but coolly to him, “Calm down.”

“Absolutely not, I'm not letting it happen to Ozzie. I'd die before I let him be taken and- and just get his whole life fucked over by these asshats.”

“Dying can be arranged.”

“Dean, knock it off.”

Ben glared at the brothers and shook Maeve off. “No, let him. You've screwed me over enough, take your best shot Winchester. Shoot me!” Ben patted his own chest with pure rage, “About time you finished the job.”

Seeing the tantrum in front of him, Dean was half tempted to pull his gun from his holster, but any violent intentions he had were cut short. A small figure finally stirred from highly needed slumber. Ozzie sat up, rubbing sleep from eyes, before quickly zeroing in on Ben. “Ben!” In a matter of seconds the little ball of a boy had jumped part way up the young adult and clung to him.

Ben's anger recoiled inside, as he gave the boy a tight hug of relief, “Hey buddy, sorry I took so long. You doing okay? 

“'m okay now! I missed you aloda alod! Didja find Momma an ge'd da mon'ser? I hanalded myself very good. I ea'ded everyday an sleeped an I cleaned my deeth all by myself.”

He swallowed hard at the mention of Sparrow and stroked Ozzie's hair, before releasing the boy from his hold. “I missed you too, half pint,” he paused and looked the boy over for any injuries, “You need to sleep, alright? Put on some PJ's and knock yourself out okay? We'll talk tomorrow.”

“...Promise, you won' leabe?” he asked quietly.

“Maeve and Collin are going to stay with you, while I talk with these two clowns outside,” he gestured to the brothers and Dean hmphed in response, “But I promise I won't leave the apartment building without you. Think you can mange without me for a bit?”

“Uh-huh.”

Ben smiled and ruffled Ozzie's hair, “Thanks, Oz, I won't be long, twenty minutes tops.”

“Nigh' Ben,” Ozzie replied quietly, giving the young man a tight hug, before rummaging through a clothes box under the bed.

“Goodnight Ozzie,” Ben called, before ushering the brothers outside, commanding his fellow youths to stay, and assuring Dean that Ozzie would be safe with them.

Ben stayed close to the apartment door, knowing if he was more than a few feet away, his anger and panic would take over again. He surmised being within earshot of Ozzie would keep him calm. Dean Winchester was the last man he wanted to speak to, but he tried to keep an open mind to Sam. The only thing that bothered Ben about Sam was the track record of death and despair that came with his surname.

As Sam closed the apartment door, Ben took a breath and asked, “How long will it take to know if he's your's?”

“Five days at the most.”

Ben nodded, “And if he's not yours, will you leave us be?”

Dean cut off Sam's reply, “No, we won't.”

“Why? He'd be safe with me and if I couldn't handle him, I have contacts that would take him in.”

“Because that kid traumatized enough,” Dean growled, “When we got here, he was armed with holy water and knife. And I can take a wild guess on who's been scaring him with monster talk. He's five and I'm not gonna let you drag him into the life.”

Curling his fists at his size, Ben snorted like a bull and gave Dean a death glare, “I didn't pull him into the life and I'm not going to force him into it. But you know what, that kid has been traumatized and he has a right to know what happened to him and to deal with it. I'm not gonna make him fight, that will be his choice, but I'm sure as hell going to make sure that he knows what's out there, so he can see when danger coming. Unlike you Dean, I don't come into to people's life, take away their defenses, and leave them to rot.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean asked surveying Ben.

“Well you don't remember me, but maybe you remember my mom, who I guess was just a another pet for you. She took you in, put up with your night terrors, your drinking, your womanizing, and bad attitude for a year. And how the hell did you repay her. You got her caught up in the life, disappear, almost get her killed, and then sick your pet angel on her to wipe her memory.” Ben swung at the air in front of Dean, purposely missing him with what little control he had left, “You better fucking remember her, because she died because of what you and your shitty ass angel pet did.”

Before Dean could respond, Sam surmised, “Ben Braeden.”

“God Dean, how pathetic are you, that your brother, who I've never met, can recognize me before you can!” In anger Ben kicked the wall of the empty adjacent apartment.

Dean drew his gun at him, “Who are you?”

“Shoot me, go ahead and finish off my whole family tree,” Ben challenged him.

“Dean put the gun down.”

Dean ignored Sam and glared at Ben, “You aren't him. Cas locked up his memories tighter than Alcatraz.”

“My friends' memories weren't wiped, the neighbors' memories weren't wiped. For weeks they asked us were some stranger named Dean went. And when the demonic signs started showing up, we thought it was a storm. We couldn't protect ourselves, so we got to sit back in our bodies, watching ourselves gut people like sheep until the demons hitched a ride somewhere else. I remembered everything your angel buddy had blocked out and my mother was left incapacitated because of YOU AND YOUR RUNAWAY LIKE A BITCH MENTALITY! GO AHEAD AND SHOOT ME!”

Dean straightened his aim with a burning hatred in his eyes and ready to shoot, but Sam quickly disarmed him and pushed his brother aside, before addressing Ben, “Stop antagonizing him and calm the hell down.”

“Sammy,” Dean growled, “Stay out of this.”

“Dean-!” Sam began to scold, when Ozzie's apartment door swung open.

“We're going to Garth's,” Maeve proclaimed, “You two obviously need a buffer and Garth is the only one we all trust. We're leaving tomorrow, or god help me Ben _I'll_ shoot you. You're lucky Collin had enough sense to give Ozzie his Ipod.” Maeve glared at Dean and grabbed Ben's arm, “He's really Ben.” Maeve quickly preformed the supernatural tests for good measured. “We're leaving tomorrow, so at least one of you needs to get a hotel, until then,” she demanded gesturing to Dean and Ben.

Ben took a gruff sigh and left volunteering, “I'll sleep in Princess, but you and Collin stay with Ozzie.”

“I'm taking a walk, watch the kid, Sammy,” Dean said, “We're going to Garth's tomorrow.”

“Dean-”

“Later Sammy.” Sam glared at his brother's back, but made no move to follow him.

“Sam,” Maeve said, waiting for eye contact before continuing, “You can take the couch, it pulls out into a bed.”

Sam nodded in response and after a moment of gathering his thoughts, he followed Maeve back into the apartment. Ozzie was already asleep with bulky headphones covering his ears. Collin sat beside him on the floor, fiddling with his fingers silently, not reacting to Maeve and Sam's entrance. Something about him felt off. He was noticeably younger than Maeve and Ben and had yet to say a word. Considering the other two's boldness, Sam wondered if Collin was just the token quiet one or had something wrong with him. Sam was about to scan him more, but Maeve interrupted him and presented him his bed. Sam thanked her and tried to sleep all night, but after the day he had, he knew sleep would never come.

 


	3. Peoples

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Parental spanking of an adolescent.

“Poke, poke!”

Sam moaned in response to the shrill voice and the tiny jabs to his nose. He had honestly, had only fallen asleep a little after four. With hazy eyes, he looked over the small head and groaned. 6:15. If his mind had shut up earlier, then that be fine, but two hours of sleep wasn't enough even for a Winchester. He couldn't really blame himself though, having a child suddenly thrust into your life wasn't a simple occurrence.

“Sorry, ” Collin apologized taking Ozzie's shoulders and trying the direct the child elsewhere, “Didn't notice him, until it was too late.

“It's fine,” Sam replied sitting up, trying to stretch out the kink in his back. He hadn't thought pulling the sofa out into the bed would be worth it, since it was already comfortable and long enough for him, so he'd made the mistake of just laying in the same position all night.

“Uh, Ben and your brother are ready to get moving, but we need to drop off the cheek swabs, so uh here,” he handed the kit to Sam awkwardly, “Maeve got Oz earlier.”

 “Thanks...” Sam said glancing again at the youth. He reminded him of a dying weed. His hair was a greasy mess, his eyes were swollen and red with dark pits underneath, and he had a frame even lankier than a weed. The poor guy definitely hadn't gotten much sleep the night before either. Choosing to ignore the youth and focus, instead, on the task at hand, Sam read over the instructions twice before proceeding.

“Ewwww, icky” Ozzie whined as he watched Sam scrape the inside of his cheek. Tugging on Collin's shirt, he asked, “Whys we hava do da?”

“Uh,” Collin nervously hissed, “What did Maeve tell you?”

“Said imporden! Why Collie?” Ozzie asked. Sam snorted at the nickname. He'd thought Sammy was embarrassing enough, let alone being called a dog breed.

“Uhhhh, ask Maeve,” he replied with a blush. Collie was not a chosen nickname or one that he liked. Maeve had gotten practice with two little siblings, but Collin grew up as the not so baby, baby, so he really didn't know how to deal with kids. He liked Ozzie, he loved Ozzie, but he just didn't know how to talk to him. It was hard to judge the capacity of understanding the little one had, so he differed to his older counterparts on how to act. Flying solo wasn't his forte, so he was more than relieved when Ben entered the apartment.

“Day lights burning, let's go.”

“Ben!” Ozzie shouted jumping into Ben's arms.

“Hey, short-stuffs,” he smiled and petted his head, “Glad to see _someone's_ ready to go.”

Collin snorted, “Garth's house is like, maybe two hours from here, plus, I am ready.”

“Good,” he huffed turning his attention to Sam, “Hurry up Bigfoot, Maeve and your oaf decided you're riding with me.”

“When was that decided?” Sam asked, suspiciously.

“While you were in lala dreamland. You're riding with me and Col. Ozzie is with Maeve and Oaf. So let's get a move on.” Ozzie giggled at Ben's sassy tone and played with the various zippers on Ben's jacket, mostly oblivious to the conversation.

“Oh, Ben, can I drive then?” Collin asked.

“No. Learn how to sleep and we'll talk.”

“That's not-”

“Blah, blah, burning daylight. Come on let's go,” Ben interrupted with an eye role. Collin grumped in response and followed behind Sam, as the man rose from the couch with an exaggerated stretch.

“Finally...” Ben sighed as he lead the pair out, carrying Ozzie with one arm and locking the door behind them with the other. Sam watched the young man intently. He didn't like the fact that he was the one holding Ozzie. Both himself and Ben would both be justified in a flight maneuver to take the boy far away from the opposite party. He didn't blame Ben for not trusting his brother and himself, but he didn't trust the band of youths either. Ben had been a name he'd heard, but someone he had no real connection to, there were no photos or videos to put a person with the name. Maeve and Collin were even more complete strangers. His only consolation was that Ozzie would be in Dean's car for the ride. Dean could keep him safe and was much better with children than himself.

As they reached the front of the building, Ozzie was traded to Maeve with a soft whine. Dean was already in the Impala, motioning for the group to hurry the hell up. Ben narrowed his eyes, as if he hadn't been doing the same a moment prior. “Keep him safe Maeve,” he ordered.

“He's fine,” she replied bluntly, taking Ozzie to the Impala. Maeve took the backseat to stay closer to Ozzie. Half to stay with the child in case of a melt down and half to relax Ben's nerves. She'd listened to far too many “Dean” rants to think that Ben wanted Ozzie left unguarded.

“Be good, Oz,” Ben called, before he led Collin and Sam down the street to his own parking spot. Watching the Impala roll away made Sam feel immensely better. No one could out tango Dean, so Ozzie was sure to be safe.

“Back seat, Col.”

“Ugh, why?” He'd been hoping to finally get to ride shotgun with Maeve out of the equation.

“You haven't slept,” Ben scolded, unlocking the old silver trans am and sliding in. Sam took shotgun, ignoring the younger youth's glare.

Sulking into the backseat, Collin huffed, “So?”

“Go to sleep.”

“I'm not five, Ben.”

“It's funny, when you don't sleep you sound just like Ozzie.” Collin groaned, sick of fighting and curled up in the backseat, having no intention of sleeping, as the car hummed to life. Sam didn't know what to think of the interaction. It reminded him of a different lifetime. Sam went through a patch of insomnia in late middle school. John and especially Dean both harped on him, until he started getting at least six hours a night and eight when possible.

“You can listen to whatever you want, Sam. I keep my CD's in the riser. I'm not picky and Prince Insomnia over here can sleep through anything.”

“Oh, thanks,” Sam replied, not missing the huff from the backseat. Although Dean has always claimed the rule was “Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole” the real rule was Dean's car, Dean's music, always. Looking through the selections, he settled on a burnt CD labeled “The Cure”.

As the music started up, Ben's face lit up, “Nice. This one's been getting dusty.”

After the first verse, he was proudly singing along to “Boys don't Cry”.

 

\----------------------------------------

“I spy with my little eyes something green.”

“Shir,” Ozzie chirped, tugging on Maeve's shirt.

“Nope, not my shirt,” she smiled lightly.

“Uhhh, hmmm,” Ozzie crossed his arms and leaned back looking around the vehicle. “Eyes!” he shouted pointing to the rear view window, where Dean was glancing back, as he did occasionally. He'd declined playing this game and the two that preceded it.

“Nope, not Dean's eyes, or yours, tenderfoot.”

“Uh... Diniel!” He shouted holding up the stuffed monster in his lap.

“Good job,” she praised.

“How mush longa Mae?” he asked, snuggling the monster back into his chest.

Glancing at her watch and checking the mile marker, she grimaced, “Quite a bit. Probably about an hour.”

Throwing his head back, Ozzie let out an exasperated whine. “Noooooo...”

Not looking forward to an Oswald tantrum, Maeve called out, “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you put some Led Zeppelin on?” She'd noticed the tape when they first got in and knew it'd be a good distraction later on. The little boy liked listening to the band every time Ben came over. He'd sing along, in a mumbling sort of way, tire himself out and fall asleep like clockwork. It'd been almost eleven by the time Ozzie had fallen asleep, so Maeve had been expecting crankiness, when she received the barking text at 5 AM from Ben.

“Really?” Dean asked, unaware of the boy's obsession. Up until now, Dean hadn't put any tapes in. He was too focused to enjoy the background tunes. The entire time he'd been listening to everything that happened in the backseat to make sure the little boy was content and that the girl didn't do anything suspicious. So far all they'd done was play games, with occasional huffs of frustration or squeals of delight. Neither of which bothered Dean particularly. Although it did feel strange to have a child in the backseat again.

“Please,” she repeated.

“Alright,” Dean shrugged popping the tape in, smiling as Ozzie immediately perked up and tried to sing with the music. When the kid smiled, he looked just like Sam. There wasn't much doubt in his mind who Ozzie belonged to and although he wouldn't voice it, he was worried about the next step. It was Sam's choice, but Dean surmised that dropping the child off with a retired contact would be the best bet. They couldn't afford to drag a rugrat around with them and bringing a babysitter to the bunker was out of the question.

By the time the tape finished, as expected, Ozzie was passed out against the door with Diniel held loosely against his chest. Maeve waited a few moments while gently stroking Ozzie's head to make sure he was truly asleep, before unbuckling herself and scooting forward to get closer to Dean. “Sorry Ben was such a pill. He's dramatic when it comes to family.”

“Not your fault,” Dean replied, wanting to change the subject quickly, “The next exit is the one, right?”

“No, two more exits, it's the one after the hospital.”

“Alright.” Truth be told, Dean hadn't considered Ben or Lisa in a few years. It was just something he cut out of his thinking. He couldn't afford to think about them. Their time together had been some of the best of his life and the thought of it being over had been too much to bear. As much as he wanted, he never went to check on the pair of them, assuming they were better with him gone and no memories to haunt them.

Maeve interrupted his thought. “Is Sam a good guy?”

“What?”

“I just want to know what kind of person he is. Winchesters don't have the best rep from where I'm from.”

“Sam's a great guy. Don't worry about it,” Dean replied, trying to shrug it off.

“If he isn't, one way or another Ben will take Ozzie.”

“Well just cross that bridge when we come to it,” Dean sighed, flicking on his turn signal and merging a lane over. The bridge couldn't come soon enough.

 

\---------------------------

 

The majority of the ride was silent except for Ben's singing and Collin flopping from one position to another. Ben had beautiful voice, but it didn't mesh well with the CD's sylings, with the exception of slower songs like “Stairway to Heaven”. Sam wasn't the biggest fan of riding in a car with strangers, even if they were much younger than himself, but this didn't feel as awkward as he expected it would. Ben was blissfully singing along to the full CD like nothing was abnormal and Collin kept to himself. There was a bit of third wheel syndrome, but Sam wasn't sure if chatting would make it better or worse, so he took to glancing out the window and listening to Ben's babbling on with the music.

After a little over an hour, the CD spit back out Ben sighed happily and rubbed his neck. “Forgot how long that one was.” Glancing at his mirrors, he made a quick turn into the exit lane, not bothering to put in another disc making the car slip into silence for several minutes.

Once they we're over the bridge and onto a Midwestern dirt road and several minutes passed, the silence started to bother Ben, so he addressed Sam, “So... how you holding up?”

“I'm fine,” he lied.

Ben snorted giving him an incredulous look. “Really? I'd freak out. The last thing I need is another person to worry about.”

Sam shrugged, thinking briefly, before answering. “I still don't know what I'll do if he is mine, but if he isn't, I guess he doesn't have much to do with me.”

“Yeah, okay,” Ben gruffly replied pulling into Garth's rough driveway.

Collin yawned and stretched, he'd slept for maybe five minutes before his nerves woke him up. He was ready to get out of the cramped backseat. Checking the window, he saw Garth giving poor Dean a big ol' bear hug and Maeve carrying Ozzie inside. They'd stayed for a month with Garth in the summer, when Ben was nursing a broken arm and although, he'd known Garth the least amount of time, Collin was the closest of the youths to the man and his family.

Naturally, Collin was the first out of the car and to approach Garth. “Hey,” he said with a small smile, rubbing at his eyes, as if he could make the puffy black circles disappear.

“Hey, man, how's it shaking? Have you slept since I saw you, you look like zombie, bleh, bleh,” Garth half joked holding his arms out like a monster.

“I've been doing better.”

“Liar,” Ben scoffed, “He nearly got himself killed last month after a three day stretch.”

“Ya idjit,” Garth scolded, swatting the boy's head with one of his worn baseball cap, “Spare bedroom, now.”

“I'm fine, really.”

“Don't make me repeat myself, young man,” Garth said crossing his arm with the sternest glare Garth could muster.

“Yeah, okay... Sorry.” Collin sighed making his way into the house.

Garth nodded and gave an excited smile to Sam before giving him a great big hug, “It's been sooooo long.”

“We talked last month,” Sam replied, looking to the side waiting for Garth to release his death grip.

“Phone ain't the same as face to face, ya idjit!”

Sam looked at Dean pleadingly. “Alright, Garth, nice to see you, enough Sasquatch killing,” Dean said, grabbing Garth's shoulder.

“Yeah, you're right,” Garth replied pulling away with a dorky smile, “So had to copy me and get your own yougin, eh?”

“Maybe,” Sam sighed holding up the paternity kit.

“Where's your mailbox? We need a return addresses,” Dean said.

“Ah, it's right over there,” he pointed down towards the road, “Go on an' pop it in and then come inside. Bess made some tomato mint tea, I know it sounds weird, but BOY is it yummy.”

“Yeah, okay.” Dean took the small package from Sam and walked it towards the road.

“Garth, you eat animal hearts, not so sure you're taste buds are that picky,” Ben smirked following him into the house with Sam.

“Oh, please, I still know what's good, don't judge. You like tea right Sam?”

“Uh, yeah.” Sam did enjoy a good cup of tea, but tomato mint would be a first and he didn't disagree with Ben's jab. He doubted very much that Garth still had a good judge of what tasted good. Sam remembered when he'd added demon blood to his diet and how many dishes began to taste different, especially towards the end of his addiction.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” a blond hair toddler called, scampering down the hallway and pouncing into Garth's waist.

Garth immediately scooped up the curly hair child and gave her a faux stern look, “Eden Grace Fitzgerald, just what do you think you're doing running in the house?”

“Peoples here.”

“Really?” Garth feigned surprise, “Do you know who they are?”

“Mmmm,” came the noncommittal answer.

“How bout me, rugrat?” Ben asked, brushing a chuck of hair out of her eyes.

Looking up, she squinted her eyes for a moment before the memories of summer clicked in her mind. “Babedon!” She squealed, trying to free herself from her father's hold.

Ben laughed at the little one's attempt at his surname and tickled under her chin. “You're silly.”

“Nooo,” She giggled, scrambling herself to Garth's opposite shoulder. “Bad Babedon!”

“My apologizes.”

Eden stuck out her tongue and looked away from him, focuses her gaze onto Sam. “Who?”

“That's Sammy Winchester, dove. Do you remember, Daddy telling you about him and his brother Dean?” Although

“No,” she replied, no longer interested in the conversation. Squirming she looked towards Garth and demanded, “Down Daddy. Wa Momma.”

“Alright, remember no jumping on Momma, you hear?”

“Yeeeees,” she whined, trying to wiggle out of his grasp as he set her down.

“Bye, dove,” Garth called as his little one scattered away.

“Kids are the best, man,” Garth sighed happily. “Ben, would you mind showing Sam the kitchen? Gotta make sure the mopey mutt's actually sleeping.”

Ben nodded, leading Sam to the left through the dining room, down a hallway and into the kitchen, while Garth trekked straight upstairs and to the left. Not bothering to knock, Garth opened the spare bedroom and was unsurprised to see the teen laying on top of the covers, eyes open, and making zero effort in general to sleep. Stepping inside and gently closing the door behind him, Garth took a deep sigh, before speaking.

“How long since you've slept, for more than a couple hours really slept?”

“I'm sorry...”

“How long?” Garth repeated, crossing his arms.

“A couple months... I think. I don't really keep track,” the teen mumbled, sitting up and twiddling his thumbs.

“This is going to stop,” Garth told him, taking Collin's chin and forcing him to make eye contact, “Is that clear?”

“You, ugh, I can't. You don't get it,” Collin whined, trying to remove Garth's grip.

“Really? The guy's who's bitten doesn't get it,” he asked incredulously. Sighing, Garth thought carefully before continuing.

The reason Collin had become so close so quickly to the family was simple. Collin was born from a fourth generation and a bitten. His bitten mother ended up attracting the attention of hunters that slaughtered most of Collin's family. Feeling lost, she forced her boys to move every month, no longer able to control her thirst. And although it was mostly irrational, Collin feared he might one day meet the same fate. His brother and himself were the first known fifth generation werewolves, so there was some natural concern that perhaps enough generations removed from the alpha could cause bitten like behaviors. Having been born from a bitten paired with the inherited ability to turn his animistic side on and off, Collin feared that if he slept, someone else would awake. Some nights, he could suppress his irrational fears and just sleep, but more often than not it would result in night terrors about his past or his possible future. It was simpler for his own sanity to only sleep occasionally and never more than a few hours.

Once he'd become adjusted to the Fitzgerald family, Collin had explained himself well to Garth. During the remainder of the teen's time there, Garth and Bess had made sure that Collin was getting at least basic amounts of sleep and introduced him to several members of their pack bitten or otherwise. Collin didn't deny that he felt physically better with regular sleep, but once he left and was away from the pack, he couldn't trust himself anymore.

“Collin you were born a werewolf, you aren't gonna just suddenly fly off the handle if you get some sleep.”

“I'm a fifth generation though, and Mom was a bitten and-”

“And you weren't,” Garth interjected and said, “My god Collin it's not even going to be a full moon again for another two weeks. Is it really that much fun torturing yourself over _nothing_?”

“It's not torture, I'm fine,” Collin scoffed, moving out of Garth's reach. He was too tired to have this conversation.

“Hey, watch it... And really, Have you looked in a mirror, or smelt yourself. If that's fine, I'm scared to think what not fine looks like.”

With his back turned, Collin squeezed his temples and begged, “I'm fine, please just drop it.”

“What did I tell you in the summer?” Garth asked, deciding to move the conversation along.

“I don't remembeeeer,” he whined, rubbing his face.

“Oh, I think you do,” Garth corrected, moving to the opposite side of the bed. “Stand up,” he ordered, slipping his belt out of his loop.

Looking wide eye, Collin pushed himself against the edge of the bed. “Please, I-I... promise I'll sleep.”

“I gave you a chance to sleep and you didn't take it,” Garth scolded lifting the thin youth with ease and tucking him under his arm. “I told you to call us if you needed help. Our door was always open. We gave you plenty of chances to sort yourself out.”

“Pleeease, Garth,” he whined trying to pull himself forward by grasping the bed's corner.

Garth doubled his belt and gave three sharp slaps to the seat of Collin's jeans. “Why are we here?”

“I didn't ask for help, I'm sorry,” Collin whimpered, tears already threatening to fall. He tried to pull himself away, but he was too unskilled and exhausted to be able too. The lack of sleep had also made him emotional, so he immediately cried out when Garth started back up, this time in a steady slow rhythm.

“You are going to start sleeping, every night, is that clear?” Garth asked, occasionally puncuationing words with a hard lick.

“Ahhh, I'll try! Ahhh! Ahhh! Stop it hurts!”

“You'll do it, not just try, little man, is that clear? Or you can stay with Bess and I, until I'm sure you're gonna take care of yourself.”

“Okay, okay! I'm sorry, I'm sorry. AH! I-I'll AH! I'll sleep, I promise I'll do it!” Collin cried, digging his nails into his forearm to stop himself from stamping his feet, the last thing he wanted was for someone to over hear.

“Good!” Garth finished with five quick licks to the thigh and finally released the teen.

Shaking like a leaf, Collin bit his index finger, trying to get a control over himself. He was grateful when Garth quickly wrapped him in a strong hug. “Sorry...” he cried.

Garth didn't respond for several moments, just holding the youth in his arms and rubbing circles on his back. It was only twenty strokes, so he knew even in the youth's bad health condition that in a matter of minutes any welts or bruising would be gone. If Collin wasn't so sleep deprived, he wouldn't be bawling so much either. Truthfully, Garth set out with the mindset of delivering forty licks, but given the youth's state and his own goober heart didn't allow him to finish.

“You okay Col?” Garth finally asked, not releasing the teen until he saw the boy's head nod.

“I'm -sniff- sorry...” he repeated, rubbing the remaining tears from his eyes.

“It's alright, as long as this stops.” Ready himself for the punishment to be over, Garth smiled. “Y'know, when I was sixteen, my old man used to have to drag me out of bed. Just chill man, sleep is nice, promise.”

“Yeah...” Collin replied laying on the bed and curling up ready to force himself to sleep, or at least hide under the blankets in shame.

“Call me if ya need me, ya idjit,” Garth chirped with a wave.

Collin smiled, “Thanks, Garth.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been such a long time, I won't go into to many details because I don't want it to sound like an excuse, but my anxiety caused some major writers block on this story in particular. Writing is one way, I deal with anxiety, so I usually only write for pieces that make me feel the best at the time of my mindset. Right now it's this story, so there will be more chapters soon, but there will almost certainly be a gap in the future and I'm really sorry my brain works that way.  
> I'm soooooo incredibly grateful to the kudos, bookmarks, and comments people have left me and I'm so sorry, I've made you all wait so long. *crosses fingers* hopefully the next few chapters will come out quickly. Thank you all so much for reading!


	4. Maeve

Sam was astonished to find the tea was palatable, it was savory with an after bite of mint and lemon pepper. It actually reminded him of a tomato broth that Bobby had made several times, when either Dean or himself were sick while visiting. It was one of the few things Bobby could cook that little Sam found acceptable. The memories of simpler years paired with the steam helped take himself away from reality for a moment and clear his head.

He remembered starry nights, clear days, chilly winters, and warm summers. Bobby's house had always felt safe and stable; a place his mind knew would stay stagnate. In hindsight, the rusted vehicles, various weapons, and easy access to alcohol, probably wasn't the safest place for children to be, but it was still better than the motel alternative in Sam's mind. He couldn't say for sure what he'd do if he'd been in his father's shoes. Sam knew John always done the best he could, but Sam still held some bitterness about his childhood. Constantly on the move, no place to call home, and no one, but his own blood being a constant. Before Sam started hunting, there were times were he felt like a little more than luggage, just being pulled along and dropped. That's not to say Sam didn't have any happy memories of the road, but overall, it had been difficult and isolating. He wouldn't wish that life on anyone.

“Maeee, pu' me down,” Ozzie whined, finally pulling himself out of his nap.

“Alright, alright, Oz,” Maeve laughed, setting the squirmy little one down.

“Hank you!” he chirped, before running over to the little girl playfully tugging on her mother's thick skirt. Smiling, he poked on Eden's shoulder until she looked and him. “I'm Ozzie.”

“'m Eden,” the little girl hesitantly replied, hiding behind her mother's skirt.

“Eden, how about you and Ozzie go play in your room,” Bess suggested, seeing her husband and the elder Winchester mosey into the room.

“No, wa' stay wif Momma!” she shouted, stamping her feet and tightening her grip on Bess's skirt.

“Eden, shush. Momma will come with you, alright?” She suggested, drying the last of the various sippy cups and glasses.

With a pout, Eden quickly decided that it would be acceptable enough. “Carry,” she demanded holding up her arms towards her.

Garth was about to interject, but Bess waved him off, carefully lifting her little one over her plump stomach. It wasn't comfortable, but it was manageable. Holding her free hand out, she asked, “Ozzie, would you like to come play with us?”

Seeing the hand in front of him, reminded him of his Sparrow. No one had told him what had happened yet. He'd been so preoccupied with all the new people, with Ben's arrival, sleep, and travel that he hadn't had time to contemplate where his mother was. Biting his lip, he cast a worried look towards Ben, begging him to tell him what happened. Ben mistook the pained look for shyness and he simply ushered Ozzie to go on with Bess and Eden. Ozzie sadly nodded and followed the woman upstairs, refusing to accept her hand.

Garth waited until he heard the door click before speaking, “Alright, Dr. Garth is in the house and ready to mediate.”

“If Bigfoot isn't the sperm donor, he needs to back off,” Ben declared.

Dean glared at Ben, but Garth spoke first, “No, name calling, this is a peaceful discussion. Sam, your thoughts?”

“If he isn't mine,” Sam paused to consider the boy and his own childhood, “...If he's not mine, I don't want him on the road. He needs a home.”

Ben nodded, “I know a hunter couple in Kentucky that would take him. They take turns on the road, so there's always someone home.”

“He's not going with a hunter family,” Dean snapped, “He'll get dragged into the life one way or another.”

Ben glared, “He's already in it, that's why he needs to be with people who know how to protect him.”

“He's five, he doesn't need to worry about it.”

“His mom is DEAD! What the hell do you think he's going to worry about?”

“Tell him it wasn't a monster-”

“I am not a liar!”

“Woah, woah, time out,” Garth interjected, before pointing to the two hotheads sitting across from one another, “foul on you, foul on you, talking privileges revoked.” After the two were silent, he continued, “Sam, Maeve, what do you two think about hunter family. Yay or nay?”

After glancing between Ben and Dean, Maeve sighed and focused her gaze on Garth, “I agree with Dean.”

“Maev-!”

“I think it'd be best if we dropped him off with regular people. They'd tell him monsters weren't real and one day, he'd believe them...” She said the next sentence carefully, “Especially if we backed off.”

“I'm not leaving-”

“Ben,” Garth cut off in warning. The teen sighed and leaned back with crossed arms. “Sam?”

“As long as he isn't on the road, I think he'd be fine either way.”

“Alright, compromise time!” Garth announced contorting his face in contemplation. “If he isn't Sam's, Oz should go to ex-hunters.”

Sam and Maeve nodded and Ben begrudgingly accepted, but Dean was still opposed. “Hunters never leave the life, they'll drag him back in with them. Why are we even having this discussion with kids?”

“He's my family, I get vote. I don't see why you get one at all.”

“Now calm down, this isn't a vote, it's just a discussion. Let's take it back a notch and just think about what's best for Oz.”

“What's best for Ozzie is for him to be safe,” said Ben.

“And getting dragged in the life isn't going to protect him.”

“And if something shows up, he should be protected by people who know what the hell's going on,” Ben growled digging his nails into his thigh and barring his teeth.

“Ben, chill out man. We all want what's best for him,” Garth said.

“Dean,” said Sam pensively, “I think Ben's right. I mean, if something did happen...”

“Fine,” Dean slumped, desperately wanting a drink. The past 24 hours had been way too much. Sam having a maybe baby, surrounded by teenagers, and Ben.

Garth smiled, “Alright, Scenario one decided. Point one for Dr. Garth.”

“Sam,” Ben started, “If he is yours what are you going to do?”

Sam sighed, he didn't want to hear that question anymore, but he knew eventually he'd have to answer it. An ex-hunter family would still probably be the best option, but if he was real blood it'd be harder. Ben had been right the night before when he snapped. Winchesters had a shit track record, some how trouble always found them.

Rubbing his temple, Sam said, “I'm sorry, but I don't know. I'll let you know.”

“Alright,” Ben nodded, unsatisfied. With a deep sigh, Ben stood up to exit the kitchen, announcing,he was going to buy a pack of smokes.

Maeve nodded, finishing off her cup of tea. She was glad that Ben only smoked in short spurts and almost never in front of her. The scent reminded her of parents, who'd both had a wicked smoking and drinking habits. Her childhood home had always smelt of smoke and according to the fire marshal's it was a dropped cigarette that put the house in flames. She knew both her parents had been hunters before she was born, so in way it was harder to loose them in a normal way. There was no one to go after, no one to shout out, nothing to kill, there were just graves filled with ashes and three new orphans. Maeve closed her eyes and tried to forget once again.

\-------------------

That afternoon, a seasonal blizzard had hit, so Garth insisted on the two groups staying over until the paternity test came back. According to the news, by the time the roads would be safe, it would be only a day before the test came, so there would be no real point in them leaving. Also, since Bess and Garth had big plans for a big family, space wasn't an issue. It was decided that the family of three would sleep together in the master, the guest bedroom would go to Collin and Ben, Eden's bed for Ozzie, a sleeping bag for Maeve in Eden's room, and a pair of blow up beds for the brothers, set up in the half-finished nursery.

When the trio had stayed previously, Maeve had opted for the couch downstairs, but she knew from experience, Ozzie wouldn't want to be alone tonight. The longer they waited to tell him what happened to Sparrow, the worst his reaction would be, so Maeve had told Ben to break it to him tonight. Whether he would or not, Maeve didn't know, but it wasn't her place to tell Ozzie. She projected her own little brother onto him, so she'd always kept her distance with him. The thought of having to say goodbye twice was more than she could bare. Ozzie was Ben's family not hers.

“Maeve, you want a drink?” Garth asked, surprised to see her looking blankly out the kitchen window.

“No, thank you,” she replied. Her ID read 25, but she was waiting until she was officially legal to drink. Her birthday was last Sunday, so she only had to wait until next year.

“Anything else I can get cha?”

“No, I'm fine, just watching the snow.”

“Alright then, call me if you need me and I'll be there faster than caffeinated weasel on skates.”

Never taking her eyes off the window, Maeve smiled and snorted, “Thanks, Garth.”

“Anytime,” he promised and departed to the living room with a pack of beers for the brothers and himself. He set the pack on the coffee table, and slid into his large comfy chair and sighed in contentment. “This is real nice, ya know? Sharing a couple of brewskies with my favorite brotherly duo. How ya'll been?” he asked and quickly added, “Besides all the apocalyptic stuff.”

“Oh, well besides that, we're just fine,” Dean sarcastically quipped, popping open a bottle.

“That's great! Oh, have you seen that movie with the panda, Bess and I saw it on date night a few months ago and boy was it good. That girly panda Nay Nay or something was the star of the show.”

“Garth, you took your _wife_ to see Kung Fu Panda?” Sam asked.

“That's what it was, Kung Fu Panda 3! And of course, date night is very important, ya know,” he chirped. They'd made date night a tradition for them shortly after getting married. After Eden came along, their once a week turned into once or twice a month. The pack was really convenient for babysitting purposes.

After chugging a beer, Garth continues saying, “Eden was only... 16 months in April, so she really didn't know what she was missing.”

Garth prattled on for several more minutes about Bess, Eden, and how Bess nearly ripped him a new one, when he decided to help out an old friend on a case, under the guise of a fishing trip. Meanwhile, the boys just listened taking an occasional drink, until Ozzie stomped in. The little boy crawled under Dean's legs, that were perched on the coffee table, climbed onto the couch, and sat between the brothers with a dark scowl on his face and his toy monster on his lap.

“Hi?” Sam asked.

“Oswald Rayle Jennings, come here,” Maeve coolly commanded.

“No. I sleep when I am sleepy. I am not sleepy, so I am not sleeping.”

Dean chuckled and smirked at the woman, “It's hard to argue with that logic.” One glare from Maeve, set his face back forward as he took another drink. He didn't deal with pissed chicks.

“See!” Ozzie accused, gesturing to Dean. Sparrow didn't believe in bedtimes, so Ozzie was more than use to going to sleep at ten and waking up at nine when not in school. The idea of going to bed at eight was ridiculous, especially when Eden was going to sleep. She was a baby, which Ozzie was certainly not.

“Would you like a time-out?” She asked.

Ozzie mouth gaped open, but quickly returned to a glare, “Mae, go 'way. Nod sleepy, nod sleeping”

“1...” she started.

“2, 3,” Ozzie finished, crawling onto Dean as a safety precaution. “You can go go now.”

Dean had to bite his lip to stop from laughing. He didn't mind the little one climbing on him and was more than entertained to see Maeve and Ozzie having a scowling match. It reminded him of the handful of tantrums Sammy threw as kid, trying to use logic rather than volume to win.

Maeve was ready to pluck the brat from Dean's lap, but Ben had overheard and intercepted the situation. “Hey, Oz, wanna come hang with me before bed?”

“Yeah, le's hang,” he agreed, swinging himself off of Dean's lap and running over to Ben.

“Ben, you can't just-” Maeve started, but cut herself off, when she realized Ben was snubbing everyone, but Ozzie.

“Can't forget, Diniel can we?” Ben asked, grabbing the toy from the couch and handing it to Ozzie.

“Hank you, Ben,” the little one gleamed, before sticking his tongue out at Maeve. Ben just laughed and carried Ozzie up stairs with him, while Maeve scowled next to the fireplace.

“Come on, cheer up, it's hard being strict with little ones,” Garth said.

“No, it's really not,” Maeve retorted, “He's going to turn him into a brat. I will savor the day when Oz starts getting fresh with Ben.”

“Okaaaay, okay,” Garth apologized, not wanting for an adult temper tantrum to brew. Maeve wasn't someone who liked to talk away her problems, if anything it made her angrier. For the first week, during the month they stayed with Garth, Maeve had refused to even speak to Ben. His broken bones were completely avoidable and silence was Maeve's way of letting people know she was pissed. Her anger left the room in awkward silence for several moments, before the last guest emerged finally awoken from his twelve hour slumber. Bess had helped him through two night terrors, but other than that his sleep had been uninterrupted.

Sam noticed Collin first and was surprised to see the teen look half way decent. His eyes were clear, his hair was de-greased relieving a much lighter shade, his skin was less pale, and the shadows under his eyes had brightened considerably, but his expression still read exhausted.

“Bess wrapped up some food in the fridge for you.”

“Thanks,” Collin said, taking his seat on the floor next to Maeve, “But, I'm not really hungry.”

“You should eat something before you go back to sleep,” Maeve chimed in.

“You guys are killing me,” Collin sighed, leaning back on his hands and throwing his head back. The one thing he hated about joining up with Maeve and Ben had been the fact that they were always treating him like a child. Since he was eight, he had pretty much taken care of himself. His mother was incompetent and his brother stayed away from home as much as possible. At fourteen, he emancipated himself from his mother and moved into an apartment with his brother. By that time he already considered himself an adult. He wasn't ungrateful for the past several months, but he wished they'd tone it down a notch. He was only three years shy of Ben, but he always acted like he was so much more mature.

If they would just back off and let him care for himself, he would be fine. Hunting was the only thing he confessed to needing help with. He wasn't a skilled hunter, he hadn't been raised like one nor had he been training for years. When he joined the group in March, Collin had natural strength and heightened senses, but zero training in proper combat. He knew lore relatively well, but lagged far behind Maeve and Ben's level. Since he rarely slept, he used every night to read, trying to catch up. He often felt useless to the team, because he was always playing catch up. Collin hoped that by this time next year he could actually be an asset.

\-----------

Ben let Ozzie read to him a chapter from a tiny children's chapter book. It wasn't overly fascinating for Ben, but Ozzie adored it and Ben was proud to see how well Ozzie could read. It was a second grade level book and Ozzie could read it with a certain level of ease, while some of his peers still hadn't mastered the alphabet. Sparrow hadn't been the ideal mother, but she'd definitely encouraged Ozzie's love for reading, making sure they read together at least once a day.

Once he finished the chapter, Ozzie saved the page and looked up at Ben beseechingly. Ben answered, “Yeah?”

“Where's Momma?”

Ben sighed deeply and squeezed the little boy. He'd been a teen when Lisa became incapacitated and for him there was a breathing body he could visit, so he wasn't sure how badly Ozzie's reaction would be. And although, he'd talked about death with Ozzie before, he wasn't sure how much he really understood it. “I'm really sorry, Oz... Your mom is dead.”

“I wanna see her!” he cried, trying to claw his way out of Ben's arms

“Oz, she's dead, you can't see her,” Ben repeated, biting his lip, unwilling to let himself grieve.

“Please, Ben, I need her!” he begged.

“Oz, it'll be okay-”

“NO!”

“Oz!”Ben shouted, as Oz broke free from his grasp and sprinted out of the room. Ben chased him down the steps and watched as he ran straight into Sam causing him to bounce back into the staircase and slamming his skull.

Sam gasped and moved to check on the screaming child, but Ben was faster. He punched Sam in the face to get him away and quickly moved Ozzie's hair around to check for any cuts, bruises, or bumps. Spotting a small cut, Ben quickly carried the boy upstairs to the bathroom to immediately begin treating it. Maeve spotted Ben's eyes dilate and his breathing become erratic and swiftly followed the pair to make sure Ben was capable of treating wounds.

Rushing to Sam now sitting on the floor, Dean saw blood pouring from his nose. Sam was biting his lip to ignore the pain, but Ben had one hell of a hook. “Sammy! You okay?” he asked, forcing Sam to tilt his head back while Garth ran to get a rag.

After a pained breath, Sam nodded lightly, “Yeah, I'm fine.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading :D


	5. Thinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late, I've had a nightmare the last few weeks. HW, accidental relationship, ending said relationship, applications, work drama, family drama, people actually enjoying my presence. Just to make it short.  
> :D Thank you again for the kudos and comments and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

 

The night was a blur for Ben after Ozzie fell. He was certain that he took care of the minor cut and he knew that he'd been loquacious, but he had no idea what he had said. If he'd helped or made Ozzie feel worse. Ozzie had eventually worn himself out and Ben had laid in bed for hours. He didn't pay any mind to the stiff sleeping teen next to him, all his attention was on what could have happened and what could happen. The boy's injuries had been minor, but Ben didn't know how or when Ozzie's heart could heal. Ozzie had never screamed so loud, cried so hard, or ran so fast and Ben knew he couldn't fix this.

Eventually, Ben's body over took his mind and sent him to sleep. It didn't last long, as per usual, he rose with the sun. For a moment he felt disoriented, but the memories flowed quickly. The fear, the instinct, the pain, and most of all the heart ache. Refusing to get into another mental war with himself, Ben forced himself out of bed, dressed himself in his lucky t-shirt and torn jeans, and wandered downstairs, avoiding the especially creaky steps. He didn't want anyone to wake up.

However, as Ben entered the kitchen, he quickly realized he was not the first riser. Sam was seated at the opposite end of the room, reading out of a dusty book. His nose was bruised and most of his face swollen. Ben winced, having forgotten this crucial detail. He knew that his skills rested mostly in instinct, but even he was surprised by his own lack of control. There was a small consolation in the fact that Sam's nose appeared to be in its normal shape and there was no brace covering the damage.

Sighing, Ben announced his presence with an apology, “Sorry for last night, I didn't-... I shouldn't have socked you.”

“I've had worse.” Sam shrugged. It had definitely been a good punch, but more than anything, it had been a surprise. Had he not been so concerned for the little boy, he could have dodged Ben's fist with ease. Sam never imagined his heart could stop so quick and his reaction been so slow. Ben had been over zealous, but he'd been the one to tend to Ozzie. He didn't need an apology from Ben.

“Still,” Ben said, “I was over the line.”

“Really Ben, it's fine. I get it.”

Ben nodded, feeling only marginally better. If he'd just held on a little tighter, the night could have been avoided. Glancing out the window, Ben considered doing laps around the property. Being anywhere near Sam would be awkward and the rest of the house was occupied by sleepers. Unfortunately the snow was too deep on the grass, he'd have to settle for doing a couple miles down the icy road.

“Where are you going?” Sam asked, noticing the youth throw on a leather jacket and lace up his army boots.

“For a run, I'll be back in an hour or so.”

“Really?”

“Helps, clear the head,” Ben responded, turning toward the entry way, surprised to see the elder Winchester descending down the stair case. Tucking into himself like a shy turtle, Ben left in silence.

“Where's slugger, headed?”

Sam shrugged, “He's going for a run.”

Dean looked out the window, “In jeans?”

“I guess so.” He shrugged. Sam wasn't trying to be distant, his brain was just on overload and he didn't want to think about anything.

Dean accepted the silence and started a pot of coffee. He doubted that he'd enjoy seeing what the Fitzgerald refrigerator held. There was probably some sort of staple food, given the youths past visits, but perishables would probably be more towards the cow heart family. If there weren't any staples, it'd be a real pain in the ass. Sam, Dean, and the band of misfits would be fine without food for a few days, but Ozzie shouldn't have to. There had been many times when Sam and Dean had skipped a meal or two while growing up, but it was never pleasant. Dean remembered his own stomach growling and Sammy's whines, but they never were completely deprived of food.

Neither brother spoke while the pot boiled. Dean knew how frightening a paternity scare could be, but unlike Sam, his fears were dismissed in a moment's time. At the time, it was a relief, but the more he knew Ben, the less relief it gave. He wondered if blood would've made a difference, even if it shouldn't have. It hadn't been easy leaving Ben and Lisa, but it'd felt right. Allowing them a life of safety that they couldn't have with him prowling around and showing up at random intervals. 

Before Dean could ponder anymore, Ozzie appeared at the doorway. “Ben?” the little one asked, too tired to form full sentences. His eyes were swollen from crying and lack of sleep and his limbs dangled like he had no strength. 

“Just missed him, kid,” Dean replied, taking his first sip of coffee. 

“Ben,” he repeated, with tears building up.

“He'll be back soon.” Wanting to distract, Dean added, “Wanna try some coffee.”

“Dean, you can't give kids coffee,” Sam scoffed, finally looking up.

“Wan' coffee,” Ozzie announced, making his way towards Dean. He remembered his mom giving him coffee several times in the morning when he asked. Honestly, most things he asked for Sparrow had provided. Mostly because he was an easy child to please. Most of his wants involved just copying whatever she did whether that be drinking coffee, reading books, or watching movies. 

Dean smirked triumphantly at Sam, before carefully passing his mug to Ozzie. “Here you go, kid.”

“Hank you, Dee,” he whispered. He blew on the cup vigorously, as Sparrow had taught him, before taking a large sip. 

“How is it?”

After another sip, Ozzie answered, “Really, really good!”

“See Sam, he likes it.”

“Yeah, Sam,” Ozzie echoed. Placing the mug on the edge of the table, Ozzie climbed onto the seat next to Dean.

Sam huffed, closing his book. “It doesn't matter, if he _ likes _ it, it's going to make him sick.”

“Nu-uh, coffee is good. Doesn' make me sick.” Reaching over, Ozzie grabbed Dean's mug and took another gulp. “See, I's fine.”

Sam rubbed his temple and groaned. It was too early and Sam was too stressed for this, but he also didn't want the little boy to have one more drop of caffeine. Knowing Dean, who was pouring himself a new mug, would not help, Sam decided to intervene himself. He plucked the mug from Ozzie's hands and dumped it in the sink.

“Hey!”

“I told you, it's going to make you sick.”

“No, id won!”

“Yes, it wi-,” Sam cut himself off, realizing he was arguing with a five year old. “Please, just don't drink it. I won't drink mine either, okay?”

Ozzie pouted towards Dean. “Please, Dee?”

“Sorry, little dude, the fun police has spoken.”

“Noooood, faaaaaair,” he whined, throwing his head between his arms.

“Uh, do you want some water?” Sam asked.

“Diniel.”

“Diniel?”

Dean answered, “That toy monster he drags around.”

“Oh, where is it?”

Lifting his head slowly, Ozzie realized somewhere among the chaos, he'd lost track. He would have taken Diniel down, had he been in his arms like he should have been. Panicked, Ozzie jumped down and started to run. Diniel must be lonely and scared, Ozzie had to get to him quick. Jumping for the stairs, he was lucky Sam was there to grab him, before he hit his head once again.

“Calm down, your toy isn't going to disappear.”

“Pu' me down, NOW!” Ozzie commanded. Diniel very well could disappear and Ozzie needed to get to him before that happened.

“It's alright.”

“Is nod! Is nod! IS! NOT!” Ozzie thrashed and bawled in Sam's arms, not caring if he got dropped in the process, but Sam wouldn't let that happen.

Deciding to keep the boy downstairs, as not to disturb any heavy sleepers. He sat Ozzie on his lap at the table and jested desperately for Dean to go find the stuffed toy. Not knowing what else to do, Sam just held the boy as tight as he could without crushing him and tried to shush him with words John and Dean had whispered to him. Calm down, you're safe, everything will be fine, I'll keep you safe.

His words did little for Ozzie's struggling, but it did take the cries down a few notches. By the time, Dean returned with Diniel, Ozzie had given up on getting free. He took the toy wordlessly and squeezed it to his chest, tears and snot covering the monster's fur. As his cries lessened, Sam released the child, but was surprised the boy didn't move to leave. In fact, at the prospect of being put down, Ozzie clung to Sam like gum to matted hair. He cried quietly into Sam's chest, and pressed Diniel between them.

“Shh.” Sam stroked his hair and patted his back. He was not bothered by the snot, the tears, or sweat of the child pooling on him. Clothes and people could be washed, but the boy's shaking frame and white knuckles, Sam would give anything to make that stop.

\------

Ben ended up cutting his run short. It was too cold to go for a full hour and he kept slipping on ice patches. He heard water running through the pipes, so he knew the house must be waking up, but on the bottom floor it was just Dean and him, who were awake. Sam had taken Ozzie to the couch and both had passed out from lack of sleep and exhaustion. Their faces were no longer tensed and mirrored each other with serenity. From their hair to their expressions, it was clear who Ozzie belonged to. 

Ben felt bittersweet. Ozzie was calm for the first time since yesterday, he was content, and Sam hadn't messed up  _ yet _ . Seeing the tight grip the pair had on each other, it was no mystery what Sam would ultimately decide. Ozzie was the best kid there was, anyone would be crazy not to keep them by their side. Sitting across from Dean, Ben sighed sadly. “He's really Sam's isn't he?”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded. He'd be shocked if Ozzie wasn't Sam's.

“Sam's not gonna leave him.”

“Probably,” Dean replied, “but I'll try to convince him otherwise. Sam and I bring death wherever we go and I don't want that kid getting hurt.”

“If he's really a Winchester, tragedy will follow him.”

Dean nodded, knowing Ben was probably right. “If there's a chance he can stay out of it... It's worth trying.”

“It's too late for that. I first met him on a case and his mom's already dead. He's already a lightning rod and he's smart as hell. Even if he got out, something would drag him back in.” Ben grabbed a beer from the fridge.

“You drink?”

Ben shrugged. “Sometimes. It helps.” He took a swig. “And please don't give me bull about me being underage, Maeve and Garth ride me enough about it.”

“Your business, man. I started young too.” Dean took a gulp of spiked coffee. “But, I'm not the best role model.”

Ben paused. “You were.” Wanting to avoid the dreaded chick flick moment, Ben left for the steps. He didn't resent Dean because of the drinking, the temper, or the night terrors. His resentment came from the yo-yoing, the abandonment, and his own regret. Once his memory came back, Ben wondered had he reacted better, been a little bit stronger, or if only he hadn't glared at Dean, maybe he would have stayed. Dean was his only father figure and he'd left him completely defenseless and never once bothered to check on them.

Ben took a large swig and sat on the empty guest bed and whispered, “Asshole.”

\------

Ozzie spent the rest of the day switching between Ben and Sam, with a slight preference towards Sam. Sam laid awake for an hour, before Ozzie woke up in time for lunch. Ozzie sat on Sam's lap to eat, read books with Ben, chatted with Sam about his likes, and took a second nap with Ben, before returning to Sam among one of his fits of crying that occurred randomly through out the day. Both Ben and Sam were cautious to make sure, he never forgot Diniel whenever switching between the two. Despite the nasty shape the toy was now in, it was a comfort object and the day wouldn't have been possible without it.

Ozzie's day was great when he was distracted. Reading and napping with Ben made it feel like a normal day. Sam was so tall, it made him feel protected and the longer he stayed with him the more Sam would talk. Sam's voice felt calm and safe to Ozzie. However, when he wasn't distracted, the day was hell. A few times he'd managed to calm himself before he started crying, but for the most part he couldn't help, but weep. He'd understood death from a young age, but it wasn't on his radar for risk. He trusted that Ben and other people were out there and that his superheroes would never loose. 

Ben took Sparrow's death and Ozzie's grief on his own shoulders. A week ago, he'd almost stopped to visit. He could have saved her, Ozzie would still be happy, and the Winchesters would be far away. With every ounce of his being, he tried to act like nothing was wrong. It wasn't hard to deceive or distract a five year old, but Maeve, Garth, and even Dean had mentioned something to him. He convinced Garth and nearly convinced Maeve, but he didn't bother to acknowledge Dean. And in all fairness, Dean wasn't the best person to talk about self-hatred with. 

Sam's day wasn't much better, but his heart ached with a different pain. The more Ozzie talked the more he listened. He remembered the little one gloating about reading at a third grade level, his favorite stories were in The Magic Treehouse series, his favorite movie was My Neighbor Totoro, he was the second best runner at school, although he claims Vic was a cheater, and swinging was his favorite activity at recess. Despite all that, he also talked about having no friends, a day where Sparrow lost track of him on a subway and he had to find his way home and borrow a phone from a neighbor to call her, and having to wait for hours at home or the restaurant for Sparrow to finish. He said he didn't like the other kids, so he didn't mind not having friends and he was proud at his independence in finding his way home and waiting patiently. 

The pouts, the smiles, and the bright green eyes all made Sam feel sick. His son (there was barely an  _ if _ left) was having a childhood that he wouldn't wish on anyone. He hadn't even considered the possibility of having a child. If he'd known, he would have been there in some way, but he knew there was no way he could have predicted this. He hadn't enjoyed remembering the sex he had with Sparrow, he didn't focus in on a details nor had he considered the lack of plastic. Before Monday, he'd never thought about Sparrow. For his soulless body, it was just sex, but it had brought something more. He wondered if Sparrow ever tried to find him. He didn't know her well enough to know.

His heart did not ache with guilt, but with mirrored pain that was magnified. He took on Ozzie's grief, sadness, and imperfect life. Sam tried to image how would he have felt had John suddenly died when he was a child. The pain was too much to consider. Holding the shaking little one in his arms was all he could do. 

\------

As soon as Sam woke up, he started watching outside for the bulky mail truck to putter down the road. For the last twenty minutes of waiting, Dean had joined him in silence. There wasn't anything he could say, until the paper offered proof. He'd already decided what he was going to tell Sam, but he knew badgering him before hand would just piss Sam off. And Sam was too focused to really consider Dean. Getting the result when the mail came, or two hours after the mail came wouldn't make a difference in the results. In the same way, being there for the delivery and finishing up at work first wouldn't change a baby's gender. It didn't change anything, but it was important.

At 8:57, Sam's waiting closed, as the mail truck cruised towards the driveway. He left to pick up the mail personally and quickly found his own envelope. Sam nervously skimmed his letter, for the highlight. The results were conclusive with 99.99% chance of paternity. One stress was gone, and a thousand more replaced it. He handed the results to Dean and laid Garth and Beth's mail on the table.

The first issue was, of course, keep Ozzie with him or keep Ozzie away from him. He wasn't good with kids, not at all. He didn't know how to talk to them, he didn't know how to read them, he didn't know anything outside of keeping them alive. But despite all that, Ozzie had chosen to spend time with Sam, he sought comfort, he communicated, and he napped with him. Sam hadn't conjured those responses, they were simply what Ozzie wanted. John's skill set as a parent was definitely focused on survival, but there was love too. Sam had wanted a normal life, but he never wanted anyone else as a father. He wanted a normal life with his family. John working, Dean playing sports, and himself in after school programs would have been a home run for Sam. Although, his younger self might stubbornly disagree, Sam knew it was true. 

However, if Sam didn't know John or Dean as family, a normal life with a normal family would have been better for him. The same could be said of Ozzie. A real family would be better, but the prospect made Sam's heart clench. He thought back to the day before, the pain was evident, but for brief moments there was peace. Ozzie's bright smile, using Diniel to reenact events, and best of all, when his breathing slowed and he clutched onto Sam in his sleep. It was a peace that Sam knew he would never feel again if he chose to keep him at an arm's length. And if Ozzie was ever in trouble, he'd need to be there. He'd never survive the guilt if he left his son and have something happen.

Dean sighed, once he finished reading the paper. “Sam, think about this.”

“That's what I'm trying to do.”

“You're not thinking smart. You want him with you.”

Sam rubbed his temple. “It's not just what _ I _ want.”

“You need to think about changing schools, getting his birth certificate, making sure your _actual_ name is on it, where he'll sleep, what'll eat, what you're going to do when we get a case, and what about when he gets caught in the crossfires.”

Before Sam could formulate a response, Ben cut in from the doorway. “I wanna know where he'll be living too, but as for everything else it'll be fine. Oz likes school, he doesn't care where it is. He's gonna be in the crossfire wherever he goes. And birth certificates are no issue. You've got a test if you really want to go the legal route. My real dad's name isn't on my birth certificate and it's never given me trouble.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, because you never went off to live with him.”

“Still, it was convenient when-,” Ben cut himself off, “Never mind. Sam, where are you planning on raising Oz?”

“Dean and I have a place in Kansas, there's extra bedrooms and it's safe.”

Ben nodded. “I see Ozzie at least once a month, that's not changing. I need to see where he's staying.”

“No way,” said Dean. “We're not keeping the kid in the bunker and we're not giving tours.”

“A bunker? Like those steel buried houses that crazy people build?”

“Basically, but it's... _homey_.”

“I need to see it, so I know Oz'll be safe,” Ben demanded. 

 


End file.
